


Come Play the Game

by interabang



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Games, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interabang/pseuds/interabang
Summary: Peter is on a mission to get a present for Gamora. When Mantis shows him the ‘imported’ Claw game from Earth that she discovers in a bar, he is all in.





	Come Play the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [“Play The Game” by Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr2iDWQSwsI)

“I wanna get something for Gamora,” Peter said.

 

“Ugh,” Rocket said, after gulping down a shot of... something, Peter wasn’t sure what, that was imported from Contraxia. “Drax, remind me not to ask, ‘What’s next?’ around this loser, now that he’s gone and got himself all shacked up.”

 

“I have yet to see a small house on the ship, but I will honor your request.” Drax tipped back his tankard of Horusian ale, finished his drink in about three gulps, and slammed the large, empty container on the grimy table. “Because Quill is, indeed, a loser.”

 

Peter shook his head, then scooted his chair closer toward the table, just as a mean-looking Badoon strode behind his chair, knocking against the back of it a bit. “I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” he grumbled.

 

“Is this for a special occasion?” Mantis asked. Her hands were folded in her lap as she stared at her tall, thin glass of green, fizzy liquid. Peter had asked the barkeep for the sweetest drink he could make. When he had ordered the concoction to give it a taste test, it was actually kind of soothing, like a mixture of lemonade and Xandarian liquor that was reminiscent of the drink he’d sneaked once or twice from Pops’ cabinet.  Mantis ordered same drink and took one sip; her glass was still full to the brim, while Peter’s was half finished.

 

He shrugged. “Nope. Just wanted to do something nice for her.”

 

“Is it to make up for a past mistake? Did you borrow one of her knives and drop it while we were fighting that group of Kree radicals?” Drax asked, turning a suspicious eye toward him.

 

“No.”

 

“Oh, I get it,” Rocket said, stifling a snicker behind his claws. “You wanna get in good with her so yous two can finally... you know.”

 

Peter grimaced. “What? No, dude, c’mon.”

 

“I don’t understand what the puppy’s talking about,” Mantis said. “What is this ‘you know?’ Is it a social transaction?”

 

“For the last time, I _ain’t_ a puppy. Whatever that is.”

 

“ _No_!” Peter nearly shouted, then covered his face with his hands. After taking a deep breath, he slid his hands down and looked at Mantis, feeling a bit guilty. “Sorry. It’s most definitely _not_ a ‘transaction.’ I just..” He ran a hand through his hair, realizing that he was sorely out of his element here. “Look, Gamora’s been there a lot for me, for all of us lately, after, well... Everything.”

 

The others all cast their eyes down toward the table, Rocket fidgeting like he did whenever Peter alluded to Yondu.

 

Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself, Peter exhaled, scooted back his chair, and continued. “I know things haven’t been easy during the past couple weeks, but she’s stepped up even more, which I didn’t think was even _possible_ , considering all the ass she was already kicking, and – y’know, yeah, I want to show her that I’m grateful, that I...” His ears began to burn as his companions looked back up at him, with varying expressions of sympathy or discomfort. “I really care about her, too.”

 

Mantis’ antennae, which had been drooping a second ago, perked up. “That’s wonderful, Peter!” She flashed a strained, uneven smile at him, but he knew it was genuine.

 

“Barkeep!” Rocket shouted, then picked up his shot glass and held it perfectly still. Five seconds later, a thin nozzle careened straight down from the ceiling, filled his tiny glass to the brim, and zoomed straight back to slot back into its impenetrable metal box. “Gonna need a lot more to get me through this here conversation,” he said as he brought his glass down to the table.

 

“So, what should I get for Gamora?” Peter asked, a little more hopeful for some actual feedback. “She’s got, like, a dozen rings. I was thinking some more jewelry, maybe?”

 

“She abhors necklaces,” Drax muttered. “The last time she and I went on a supply run in that decrepit market on Lumina, a merchant shoved an assortment of them in her face. I thought she was going to rip his arm off and take the lot of them, but she politely declined.”

 

Everyone else at the table was silent as they stared at him.

 

“Then she fractured his arm for getting in her way.”

 

Rocket nodded, then lifted his drink to down it in one gulp.

 

“She informed me later that she thinks necklaces are too gaudy, and a major risk to wear in battle,” Drax continued.

 

Peter slid his own necklaces underneath his shirt collar. “Okay, so, what about clothes?”

 

“What, you mean she’d wanna wear something else that ain’t black, leather and resistant to blood?” Rocket asked.

 

“Oh! Yes, she does!” Mantis clapped her hands excitedly as she turned her attention back toward Peter. “I have seen her wearing your shirts many mornings, lately. When I asked her why, her eyes got very big, and she quickly said she had to look for Groot. I could tell she was lying.” Lifting her head proudly, Mantis leaned down toward her own cup, encircled it with both her of her hands, and barely took a sip.

 

Rocket shouted for the barkeep again and held his glass high. “Not to burst your bubble, Quill, but she probably ain’t too keen on getting your week-old, holey shirts. On second thought, try that, I wanna see her slice ’em up.”

 

Drax roared with laughter and requested a refill as well; when his tankard and Rocket’s cup were filled, they tapped them together.

 

“Oh, my God,” Peter mumbled, rotating his own glass on the table. He stared into the fizzing liquid, as if it would give him an answer.

 

Drax wiped foam from his mouth with the back of one hand. “Perhaps instead of buying Gamora a present, you should _earn_ one for her.”

 

Peter stopped rotating his glass, perking up a bit. “You mean, like, I should steal something for her?”

 

“No!” Mantis cried. “Drax is right. There are all those recreational activities outside, where you could win a prize if you defeat one. Like the Mobian spiderbull riding, or wrestling with a Kamado!”

 

“Okay, _now_ we’re talkin’!” Rocket roared.

 

“Yes, Quill, that would be an excellent method of displaying your affections!” Drax said, pounding the table with his fist.

 

Rocket hopped off his chair. “I’ll sign you up for the next match right now!”

 

“Woah, woah! Guys!” Peter yelled, waving his arms around, then yanking them closer to his body as a winged, tattooed half-giantess jostled past the table, causing Mantis’s drink to spill.  “Look, I just wanna surprise Gamora with something nice, not end up getting handed to her in several boxes.”

 

“Well, you don’t have to risk your life to win a prize,” Mantis, who was now shielding the top of her glass with both hands, pointed out to him. “There are many games you could play without putting yourself in danger. Like the one at the back of the bar!”

 

Peter raised his eyebrows, unsure of where this was going. “What game?”

 

She lowered her head on the top of her hands, which were still covering her drink. “The game at the back, near the restrooms. When I went there earlier, I saw it. No one was playing the game, but it looked like there were prizes inside.”

 

“Prizes?” Peter stroked his chin. “All right, you know what? If it can’t hurt, me, I’ll try it out.”

 

“Yay!” Mantis laughed just about as loudly as Drax. Then, in the blink of an eye, she picked up her drink, and began chugging it just like he did.

 

“Mantis! Slow down!” Peter said, horrified, as he watched her empty her glass with gusto. Drax just cheered her on as Rocket lifted up his own shot glass again.

 

 

 

Uneasy with the thought of leaving Mantis behind so she could engage in a drinking game with Drax and Rocket, Peter asked her to accompany him to the back of the bar.

 

It was a fairly large one, about the size of the mess hall back at Nova Corps. From what Peter could recall on Earth, it was about a quarter of the size of a football field. The tables were grouped in rows, and various aliens filed around the crammed tables in aisles that were wide enough for Peter and Mantis walk side-by-side. Nozzles made of unbreakable material zoomed down to raised glasses and tankards at varying intervals with whiplike speed. As he surveyed the scene, Peter was relieved that Mantis hadn’t demanded a refill of her drink.

 

He and Mantis quickly drew up to the line for the restrooms situated in a long hallway carved out toward the rear of the bar, and after Peter tried looking around the patrons in front of him to see the game Mantis mentioned, he rocked back down on his heels, unable to get a glimpse of it. The way she described it sounded like it might be...

 

But no. It probably wasn’t.

 

He turned toward Mantis, and noticed her swaying back and forth to music that wasn’t playing, with her hands clasped in front of her.

 

“You holding up okay?” he asked.

 

“I have never drank anything so delicious before,” she said, grinning toothily. There was a slightly rosy glow in her cheeks, but she looked happy. Not, to Peter’s relief, like she was going to collapse. “You and Drax, and all the others have helped me discover so many new things since I joined you all. Thank you, Peter.”

 

“Hey, don’t mention it,” he said, taking a couple steps forward. He felt better, now that the others weren’t around to rag on him. “And let me know if you wanna head back to the ship. Gamora’s probably still up after tucking in Groot for the night, so I bet she’ll let you on if you get bored here.” He pictured Gamora’s reaction when she would receive her gift, and grinned in anticipation.

 

Mantis blinked her large, dark eyes as they slowly reached the back of the bar. “The cute puppy says you make a very stupid face when you think about her.”

 

“The _trash panda_ says that about all my faces,” Peter said, sighing.

 

“No. He only says that about the face you make when he can tell you are thinking of her. Or when you are speaking to her. Or when she touches your arm. Or, after a fierce battle, when she asks if you are okay, and —”

 

“— Okay, yup, got it,” Peter said, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck, relieved that there was one more alien in front of them.

 

Mantis’s antenna swayed in the air. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed to look that way. I think it is when you look the most like yourself.”

 

“Huh,” Peter said, as a Quist brushed past him after leaving the restroom. “Don’t really know what that means, but thanks.”

 

“It’s a good thing,” Mantis said, then added in a whisper, “I have seen her make the same face when she thinks you aren’t looking at her.”

 

A warm and indescribable feeling, that had nothing to do with alcohol, filled Peter’s chest.

 

“Ah, there it is,” Mantis said as the Uranusian in front of them raced ahead.

 

A long aisle stretched out in front of Peter as he took a step forward. There were about ten private bathroom stalls on either side of the aisle. It would’ve been almost _spooky_ , if the place was empty.

 

But, all the way at the end of the hall, Peter saw the game.

 

A singular, scratched machine stood there, beckoning.

 

He didn’t think it was true, but it was there, right in front of him. Plain as day.

 

“Woah,” he said as he finally reached the tall device.

 

The glass casing displayed several randomly placed scribblings, all of which Peter could read and would _not_ tell Mantis what they meant. The cabinet was scratched up and worn, and there was a datapad for unit transfer where the coinslot used to be.

 

But overall, it was pretty much like the game he used to play back home.

 

“What is it?” Mantis asked in a hushed tone.

 

“It’s something I used to play on Earth,” he said, equally awed as he reached out to fiddle the joystick. “You use this to move that claw up there, and try to catch one of the toys.”

 

Mantis moved to the right side of the machine, then pressed her face up against the glass so she could peer at the pile of stuffed animals and plastic toys. There were several Earth animals Peter could recognize, along with a few that were probably taken from other planets.

 

“Are you good at this game? Can you win something?” she asked, looking up at Peter through her side of the glass, her nose squashed against it.

 

“Yeah, I used to be pretty good,” he said, though he didn’t explain why he spent so much time on this machine. It was one of the few games he could afford to play after school, and it was outside the drugstore, just a couple blocks away from the hospital where...

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep, steadying breath, and opened them. When he did, his attention automatically honed in on a small, reddish-brown teddy bear in the far left corner of the pile.

 

It was the first toy he’d won for Mom.

 

“Oh yeah,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “I can _definitely_ win something now.”

 

He automatically felt around in his pocket for a quarter, then realized he didn’t have any quarters.

 

“Shit,” he said, a little deflated. “Kinda ruins the moment, but y’know what, it’s cool.” He tapped his account number and security code onto the installed data pad, and pressed the “Accept” button.

 

“Five thousand units entered. Two credits remaining. Good luck,” the datapad chirped in a prerecorded voice.

 

“What? Are you for – that’s highway robbery!” Peter shouted. He nearly smacked the machine out of frustration, but held himself back when he remembered that Mantis was pressing her face and both hands against the glass.

 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea, after all,” she said hesitantly.

 

“No, no, it’s fine. I got this,” Peter assured her, squaring his shoulders as he redirected his attention on the teddy bar.  “Man, it’s not ever gonna be like the movies, is it?” he muttered to himself, and wrapped his hand around the joystick.

 

“What’s the movies?” Mantis asked as he started up the claw.

 

 

 

“Up, left, down, down,” he muttered. “C’mon, this one’s it.”

 

He punched the red button and held his breath as the claw descended and closed around the small teddy bear. Slowly, it was lifted from the pile, wobbled precariously in the steel claw’s grasp, and, after a couple seconds filled with whirring and Peter’s heartbeat thrumming in his ears, the plush toy dropped through the hole.

 

“You did it!” Mantis cried. Peter blew out a long, relieved breath as he eagerly stuck his hand through the receiving flap. Then he froze, wondering if there was some sort of trap in there that would chop off his hand.

 

When nothing happened, he yanked out his prize, laughing out of sheer relief. He couldn’t help cuddling the soft teddy to his face, remembering how his mom had done that to her own cheek when Peter had presented it to her.

 

“It I want!” someone – not Mantis, Drax, or Rocket – cried.

 

Peter snapped out of his memory and looked to his right, realizing that there were three bar patrons who were crowded around him, watching him play.

 

“Uh,” he said, looking at the bear, then at the dude who’d cried out. He was a Guna, one of the reptilian locals, so it wasn’t quite easy to understand him because Peter’s translator only had the basic setting installed – Gamora had handled the mission since hers was more comprehensive – but he couldn’t mistake his expression of pure need as the 5”4’ reptilian stared at the toy.

 

“Please,” he whispered, tears welling in his large yellow eyes.

 

“Well, y’see,” Peter said slowly, glancing back and forth between him and Mantis as she remained on the right side of the machine, hands held up to her face in a defensive posture, “I won it, square and not-so-fair. But here, you can play if you want.” He stepped away from the claw machine, then quickly tapped the small datapad to clear his account information.

 

“Please!” the Guna patron wailed, taking a couple steps toward Peter as he reached up for the bear.

 

Peter took another step away from the claw game and jerked his head, indicating Mantis follow him.

 

But she stayed put.

 

“Mantis, come on. We got what we came here for.”

 

“Maybe you should give it to him,” she said, lowering her hands.

 

Peter stared at Mantis in shock. Then he looked at the teddy bear’s round, innocent face.

_Thank you, Peter_ , he remembered his mom saying before she got up from her hospital bed to hug him.

 

 _Peter! This is so thoughtful of you. It’s the best present anyone’s ever gotten me_ , he imagined Gamora saying to him, before wrapping him up in a totally different kind of hug.

 

“Oh, all right,” he grumbled, and handed it to the Guna.

 

“Thank!” he shouted, squeezing the bear and beaming up at Peter before high-tailing it – literally – out of the dimly lit hall.

 

“Well, looks like I gotta get another bear,” Peter told Mantis with a sigh, turning back to face the claw game.

 

“That was a very nice thing you did,” she said, her black eyes shining through the fogged and scratched reinforced glass casing. “And since you are so good at this game, I’m sure you will win again very soon!”

 

“He’s good at it?” one of the other aliens, who looked similar to Nebula, asked.

 

“Can he win more prizes for us?” the other asked in a voice that sounded kinda like when you sucked on helium.

 

“Sorry, bros,” Peter said, pushing back the cuffs of his jacket sleeves before shaking out his hand, “Just gonna go for one more.”

 

“But we’ve never seen anyone beat the Claw before!” the Nebula lookalike declared as an insectoid alien arrived, sucking his fizzy drink through his proboscis. “You’re like a wizard, or something!”

 

Peter hesitated before resting his hand on the joystick. In the distance, he could hear the Guna yelling joyously about his toy in the main bar.

 

Then, Peter looked back at the small, but growing group of aliens who’d joined him and Mantis. They were all staring with expressions of excitement at the treasure trove behind the clear casing.

 

As a kid, whenever Peter had scraped enough money to play the Claw game, he never had someone to cheer him on. He was either alone, and most of the time he was chased off by a high schooler or the class bully.

 

Peter knew he only had so many units to burn. His hand was starting to feel a bit cramped, and the heat of the bar, plus his jacket, _plus_ the crowd, made him sweat.

 

But now, he had an entire audience.

 

“It’s Clawberring Time!” he shouted before tapping the datapad, and the crowd cheered as he started up the game.

 

 

 

 

One thousand, ten hundred units.

 

Two hours.

 

Fourteen toys.

 

Fourteen happy, screaming alien patrons.

 

One lone teddy bear left in the upper right quadrant of the pile.

 

Sweat dripped down Peter’s face. Mantis was holding his jacket, and he didn’t even care anymore that she kept pressing it up against the glass case.

 

His joystick hand felt like it was about to fall off, his throat was parched, and his back was sore from all the congratulatory pats and slaps. Although Mantis had been looking worried about him for the past hour, he wouldn’t let her drag him away.  

 

Because now, he _really_ had his eye on the prize. The last prize.

 

Up, up, right, right, right. No. Hard left.

 

Right.

 

Feather-light tap to the right, and...

 

As his heart pounded so loud it nearly drowned out the noise of the crowd gathered behind him, Peter pressed the big red button in the center of the control panel.

 

The claw descended, opening its mighty metal jaws.

 

It closed around the bear, then shot back up to the ceiling.

 

The bear wobbled around in its grasp, and Peter swore time actually _stopped_ for half a second.

 

Then, slowly, so agonizingly slowly, the claw zoomed back toward the chute.

 

And it released the bear.

 

A wave of screams and cheers erupted around the machine as Peter let out a long, shaky sigh.

 

His back muscles screamed in protest as he bent down to retrieve the bear, and he turned around holding it up and beaming as nearly all the bar patrons clapped for his victory.

 

Ignoring his aching spine, Peter took a dramatic bow to the applause. The crowd parted in half as he held the last bear as high as he could, clutching it with all his might, his arm trembling as he glanced over his shoulder to Mantis and shouted, giddy with relief, “Let’s go!”

 

The hallway was teeming with patrons, all of whom reached out to clap Peter on the back, ruffle his sweaty mop of hair, and shake his free hand. To his amazement, no one tried grabbing Gamora’s bear for themselves. No one even touched it.

 

The Guna for whom Peter had won the first bear was waiting at the hall’s entrance, peeking behind the much, much taller, and more dangerous-looking, barkeep. He tapped his feet as he stood with his clawed arms crossed over his chest, and as Peter neared him, he couldn’t help but actually _gulp_ in apprehension.

 

“Winner the you?” he asked. Yeah, Peter definitely had to get his translator chip updated during the next trip to Xandar.

“Yes, sir,” he said, trying not to look intimidated as he stopped in front of the large Guna, Mantis bumping into him from behind. “Uh, sorry about the noise. And clogging up the lines. But I gotta say, you, uh... Know how to keep the place nice and tidy. Totally forgot we were even _near_ the bathrooms, which, I realize you probably don’t understand what I’m even sayin’ right now.” Peter winced, wondering if he would be able to run past the guy if things got bad fast.

 

The Guna peered down at Peter with his large yellow eyes. His tongue snaked out, and back in again.

 

Then, he broke out into a toothy grin.

 

“Congrat!” he said, throwing his scaley arms out and leaning down to embrace Peter before he knew what was even happening, as he kept holding up the bear. His breath was instantly squeezed out of him, and he was nearly lifted off the floor for a moment.

 

Then the bar owner set him back down, loosening his grip as he said something that Peter could only assume meant that his stunt brought in a ton of more customers, and more money.

 

As he let go of Peter, who took deep, heaving gulps of air, he announced something to the crowd that anyone would understand, even without a chip:

 

“Round of drinks, on the house!”

 

The patrons erupted in cheers, applause, whistles, and even a sound that reminded Peter of a car backfiring. All around the tables, nozzles dropped from their casing in the ceiling to fill all the cups on the tables to the brim.

 

As the crowd of aliens filling the hallway started stampeding back to their tables, Peter shouted his thanks to the bar owner, then waved at the shorter Guna, who was happily hugging his stuffed bear.

 

Then, Peter leaned his head back to try yelling to Mantis, “Let’s find the others and go give Gamora her present.”

 

“Yes, let’s!” she shouted back, barely audible amongst all the whistling and hollering behind them.

 

They didn’t even take five steps forward when Drax pushed his way past the aliens milling back to their seats in front of Peter.

 

“You should’ve seen that guy’s face!” Rocket said, riding Drax’s shoulder and roaring with laughter before he took notice of Peter and Mantis. “Hey, Quill! Guess what the big guy here did!”

 

Relieved, Peter finally lowered the stuffed bear. He took his jacket back from Mantis and slung it over his shoulder as he wiped sweat from his forehead, then noticed the bruises and scrapes all over Drax’s skin. “Oh my God – what happened to you, man? You all right?”

 

“I will be fine, Quill,” he said with his trademark stone-faced expression. “They are battle scars I will proudly display for days.”

 

“You think this is bad, y’should see the other guy. Freakin’ _pulverized_ the Kamado, s’what our Drax did!” Rocket proudly announced. “Check it out!”

 

He pulled out his miniature datapad from one of his pockets and tapped a few buttons. A 3D hologram shot up, displaying a statue that looked very similar to Drax.

 

“I decided that I, too, would express my gratitude toward Gamora for all she has done for our group,” he said, cracking his neck before brushing away some dried blood off the shoulder Rocket wasn’t sitting on. “I assume she will be very pleased with my bounty. Though we will have to wait two to four weeks for it for it to be constructed, it is an honorable gift that I am sure she will appreciate.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter said, shaking his head at Drax’s bravado while Rocket stifled a laugh, and Mantis gazed at the holographic statue in awe. “Maybe we should just, y’know, leave the statue here? To commemorate your victory.”

 

Drax frowned. “But Gamora will not be able to bear witness to a permanent, physical reminder of my daring feats in combat! I think it should go in her room.”

 

Tapping the button to make the rotating holographic Drax statue disappear, Peter said, “Okay, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

 

“I said her _room_ , Quill, not a bridge.”

 

Rocket suddenly took notice of Peter’s appearance, after dozens of rounds with the Claw machine in a cramped space. “Woah, what’ve _you_ gotten yourself into? Ya look like you been swimming in an A'askvariian lake.”

 

Peter took his jacket back from Mantis. “Thanks, Mantis. Oh, it was no big deal. Just beat the unbeatable myself, with much less physical harm.”

 

Rocket furrowed his brow. “Ya look like you’re about to pass out.”

 

“I beat the Claw machine! It was a game we had on Earth, and I guess it was, like, some ancient puzzle to everyone here. Got a bunch of toys for some of the locals, got a round of drinks for everyone, and the best part is, I finally won something for Gamora.” Peter said, handing the stuffed bear to Drax as he opened up his long coat, shrugged his left hand into a sleeve, and whirled the coat around his shoulder.

 

Then his joystick hand cramped up and he yelped in pain. “Actually, it’s kinda hot in here, so...” Flushing with embarrassment as the other stared at him, Peter gingerly shrugged off his jacket and took back the bear from Drax.

 

“How much did you spend on it?” he asked, still eyeing the bear skeptically.

 

Peter carefully slung the jacket over his left arm. “Oh, I dunno... Maybe a hundred thousand, give or take.”

 

“ _What_?” Rocket shouted as Drax muttered, “I only spent a thousand to fight the Kamado. It was worth every unit.”

 

“Dude... You know you could’a just _asked_ me to rig the thing in your favor, right?” Rocket asked, hopping down from Drax’s shoulder onto a nearby table. Luckily, the patrons sitting around it were too thrilled passing around a small stuffed giraffe to pay attention to him.

 

“Well, yeah, but that way, I wouldn’t have _earned_ it,” Peter pointed out, though it was starting to dawn on him that he was pretty much flat broke.

 

Rolling his eyes, Rocket jumped down onto the ground. “Could’a given me two minutes with that d’ast Claw, Gamora’d be swimming in toys by now.”

 

“Swimming in what, now?”

 

Peter and the others froze. Gamora strode toward them down the aisle, Groot sitting on a rag draped over her shoulder.

 

She was also, Peter noticed, covered in a thin layer of pink dust.

 

"Woah,” he said, hiding the stuffed bear behind his back right before she joined them. “What happened? Are you okay?”

 

“I went out on a job,” she said cooly.

 

“What, without us?” Rocket asked. “You should’ve asked for backup!”

 

“You were all becoming too intoxicated to work, and the mission didn’t demand much of me.” Gamora shook her hair and some of the pink dust fell down to the floor.

 

Rocket sneezed, waving away the sparkling cloud. “Oh, yeah? Then what’s all that shi – I mean, stuff alls over ya?” he quickly changed his wording when Groot turned toward him curiously.

 

“Well,” Gamora said with a sigh, “I’ll put it to you this way: don’t ever walk into a nest of _vios_. And definitely don’t challenge their queen to a duel.”

 

“I don’t know what those are,” Mantis said, her eyes wide as she gazed at Gamora.

 

“Consider yourself lucky,” Gamora told her in a hushed, almost horrified voice. “I can’t wash this off, so I’ll have to wait for a few hours for it to fall off naturally. Fortunately, it’s not poisonous or anything, just... inconvenient.”

 

“Inconvenient don’t begin to cover it,” Rocket muttered, trying to scrub the light layer of dust which had fallen onto his head. True to Gamora’s word, it remained, but as it was only a small amount, it just made the top of his head look a bit shimmery. “Wait. You didn’t take Groot with you, right?”

 

“I am Groot!” he exclaimed, bouncing a bit on the towel.

 

“Of course I didn’t,” Gamora added. “He stayed on the ship. I was only gone for an hour or so.” Gamora said, turning her attention back toward Drax, and then Peter. “What happened to _you_ two? I thought you were just drinking.”

 

“Long story,” Peter said in a strained voice. Though Gamora was understandably disgruntled at being covered in shimmery pink dust, it made her look like she was glowing. Well, even more than she already did.

 

“Wait,” she said, carefully turning toward Drax without shedding anymore dust on Groot or Rocket. “Don’t tell me you fought that Kamado outside.”

 

Drax nodded proudly, crossing his arms over his scratched up chest. “It was a magnificent battle. I shall tell you about it later. And you will be very pleased with my prize, of which I will bestow onto you so you may forever marvel at my victory.”

 

“Can’t wait to see it,” Gamora said, though judging by her expression, Peter could tell she already had an idea of what it was. Her eyes shone with a hint of amusement.

 

“How much ya get for the job?” Rocket asked Gamora hastily changing the subject.

 

“I am Groot!”

 

“Two hundred thousand?” Rocket translated, “Nice. That’s twice as much as what Quill wasted, tryin’ to get you a present.”

 

“What?” Very slowly, Gamora turned to look at Peter. “Is that true?”

 

“Oh, uh,” Rocket said, glancing up at Peter, then jerked his head to Mantis and Drax. “C’mon, let’s head back to the table and get in on this free round.”

 

Mantis looked at Peter, as if for permission.

 

“Hey, it’s cool. You don’t gotta ask me, I’m not your dad,” he said gently. “And thanks for all your support.”

 

She nodded, her mouth turning up in an extremely wide grin, and she ran off to join Rocket.

 

“But don’t drink too much!” Peter couldn’t help calling after her.

 

To his surprise, neither Groot nor Drax followed her as she weaved her way between tables to catch up to Rocket. “Uh, Drax, why don’t you join them?” Peter said, reaching up with the arm his jacket was covering to scratch at the back of his neck, which was still damp with sweat.

 

“I would like to stay and bear witness to this momentous occasion,” Drax said solemnly, his arms still crossed over his chest. Like they were getting _hitched_ , or something. Which Peter didn’t think about before he fell asleep. Definitely not.

 

“I am Groot,” he agreed. Probably.

 

“Well...” It took a moment for Peter to realize he was basically just standing there, with his two friends watching him give a stuffed bear to the woman of his dreams, who was covered in sparkly pink dust.

 

His eyes burned and he was sweating all over. His hair was a total mess, and his hand, now screaming with pain, was still cradled around a small stuffed bear behind his back.

 

Yeah, this was _definitely_ not at all like the movies.

 

“Peter?” Gamora asked, starting to look concerned.

 

“Hey, Gamora, I can explain,” he said, all his words rushing out in a jumble. “I should’ve been paying more attention to Drax and Rocket, and it’s super late, and I didn’t mean to make Mantis stay out for so long, or make you worry. I just, I wanted to get something for you, and then it became this whole thing with trying to win you the perfect gift, and, well...”

 

“Peter – slow. Down,” Gamora said, and he swore he saw a hint of a smile playing on her beautiful lips – although that could’ve been the result of the pink dust playing tricks on him. “Yes, maybe you should’ve been paying closer attention, but would you have stopped Drax?”

 

“I – uh,” Peter said. He looked at Drax, who shook his head.

 

“No,” Peter said, mimicking him and turning back to Gamora. “I wouldn’t.”

 

“Would you have stopped me from going on a solo mission?” she asked.

 

“Definitely not,” he said, faster than he could think.

 

“Good,” she said, and she was visibly smiling now, “because aside from the dust, I kinda enjoyed myself.”

 

Peter sagged with relief. “Wow. Well, you know, so long as you’re cool with all this, I think we can all safely say we totally —”

 

“— We’re taking Mantis back to the ship after she finishes her drink, though.”

 

“ _Totally_ what I was gonna say next.”

 

“I had no doubts of that, Quill,” Drax offered, and Peter flashed him a grateful grin.

 

Gamora’s rare, almost gleeful expression shifted to concern as her attention drifted toward Peter’s hidden hand. “Is your hand okay?”

 

“Oh. Uh.” Peter had practiced this part in his head, over and over, as he literally sweated over the crane machine. Now that he was actually face-to-face with Gamora, though, his perfect script ran right out of his head.

 

Biting back a wince as the muscles in his joystick hand screamed, he presented her with the stuffed bear, as if it would speak for him. “I, uh, got this for you,” he said. It came out more like a squeak.

 

“Peter was singularly focused on his mission of daring and chivalry,” Drax said. “He would not rest until he won the ultimate gift for you.”

 

“Really,” Gamora said, looking a bit wary. Then again, that’s how she looked nearly _all_ the time – and Peter wouldn’t want her any other way. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out with her gloved hand to take the small bear from Peter. Its fur had become a bit scuffed, but as Gamora turned it over in her hands, Peter’s chest grew tight and warm.

 

“It’s lovely,” she said after a long moment. “Like the Earth boars you told me about.”

 

Peter didn’t even bother to correct her. “You like it?”

 

“I do,” she said, lifting her gaze up to meet his. “It’s so thoughtful of —”

 

“I am Groot!”

 

The young tree reached out toward the bear.

 

“Oh,” Gamora said, taking notice of him. “Would you like it?” In a split second, she handed the bear up to Groot.

 

Peter could swear his heart dropped right down into his stomach.

 

“Thank you, Peter. I can tell it will be a good companion for him.” She started to step forward, hesitated, and reached out her gloved hand to take his sweaty hand in hers as she gave his a light squeeze.

 

“Anytime,” he croaked, his heart leaping back up into his chest and beating so hard, it could damn near burst through any second.

 

Moving as if she were stuck in slow-motion, Gamora turned and headed over toward the group’s table.

 

“You’re making that stupid face Rocket told me about,” Drax said as he joined Peter’s side.

 

“Yes, I am,” he said, his tone as dopey as it was proud as he watched Gamora practically glide away, sparkling and smiling at Groot.

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand your affections, Quill,” Drax admitted. “You went to all that trouble, spent hours and wasting all your units playing some inane game suited for children. You gave all your bounties away.”

 

“Well,” he said, his right hand throbbing something awful, but for now, he could care less about it, “I like a challenge.”

 

“And you are fine with Gamora giving your present away? Was it all truly worth it, in the end?”

 

Peter watched Gamora as she joined Rocket and Mantis, bending so Groot could jump off her shoulder onto the table. Then she gently took the glass Mantis had just finished chugging, and set it down.

 

Almost as if Gamora sensed Peter’s gaze, she turned around in his direction, and from across the crowded bar, she smiled at him.

 

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Yeah, it most definitely was.”


End file.
